Come And Take Them
by Jonas Grant
Summary: Athos and his Phalanx of Spartan warriors are abducted by a column of light descending from the sky and awaken three thousand years latter in a world that has changed into the epitome of their culture, a world of war where survival of the fittest rules.
1. Rising Titans

**A/N: So, I looked at Toshiro Kago from Mothership Zeta and figured I should write a story from his point of view; taken from antiquity and thrown into the far future… But then, I had a better idea: Spartans.**

**I am by no mean an historian, but I have a fascination for these antic warriors, their training and their dry wits, so I decided to write the story of a small Spartan patrol being trust into the Wastes, maybe meet Caesar's legion…**

_Philip II of Macedon, with key Greek city-states in submission, turned his attention to Sparta and sent a message:_

_"If I win this war, you will be slaves forever."_

_In another version, Philip proclaims:_

_"You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city."_

_According to both accounts, the Spartans sent back a one word reply:_

_"If."_

**Sparta**

**September 21**

**477 BC**

**12:55**

There are times in a warrior's life when has to back down. No matter how deeply ingrained upon him it has been to never give, to never bow to the enemy, no matter that it is the law. There are foes so formidable, so merciless no wise men would fight them.

Spartan women are one such relentless adversary, so when my mother tells me that I _will_ volunteer to go in Athen, I do not ask why, I do not try to argue; I take one last spoonful of soup, get up and grab my armor.

She laughs and tell me I can at least finish eating. Good, there are very few things in life I really enjoy, but my mother's 'Black soup' is one of them, so I sit back and resume eating while considering what I am about to get myself into.

Athen… Last time I saw the city was two years ago, after King Leonidas' death in the Thermopylae, the Presians had pushed all the way to the city and . My _mora _and I were stationed at the Peloponnesian Peninsula, charged with defending it from the invaders while letting refugees trough -Athen would owe us a huge favor for this-.

Except the enemy never came.

I took us quite some time to realize that and much less time to punish the Persian ground forces' arrogance while the Athenian navy did the same with their ships.

A year after the death of our king, the last Persian on Greek soil was turned into ash atop a burning pile of his kind. It has been a year since my brothers and I have not fought a single battle and now, the Athenian messenger finally convinced the _ephors_ to send a few warriors investigate the strange lights in the sky that are said to take peoples away.

So I will not go alone, even though Plataea proved to everyone how deadly Spartans were even outside their phalanx, it was decided a group of thirty warriors should be sent with a few _helots_ and provisions for a few week.

Marcus will be Enomotarch and I will act as his Phylearch, which means I will be in charge of half the phalanx. Will be strange to serve under him again after so long, the only occasion he had to give me orders were during our daily war games and practice.

Behind me, Dionae enters the house, moving slowly in a vain attempt to sneak up on me. Her tiny feet barely make any sound at all, but I was trained not to let anyone take me by surprise and have the scars to prove it.

She pounces and I spin of my chair in time to grab the back of her head and dip her face in the bowl of cooked blood and liver. There is not much left, but enough for her to get some in her ears.

"Hello, little one." I greet, and she immediately answers;

"Hewo Ashos!"

"Athos, stop it…" I immediately let my sister go and take a step back just as my mother emerges from the kitchen, towel in hand.

That woman should have been a prophet, she can always tell what I am doing sometimes before I think about doing it.

I once asked her how she did and she answered that she had been trained just as thoroughly as I was, just not for the same purpose.

My little sister is thirteen years old and just tall enough to kick a man in the groin, which I saw her do on many occasions to some of her most annoying pretenders.

Those I did not have to threaten of a slow and painful agony, anyway.

She take my mother's towel and wipe the soup off her face.

"I'll get you some day!" She vows.

I smile and ruffle her hairs, "You will; once I'm old and senile!"

"You're already old!" she laughs once I sit back, taking he own seat to my right.

"I tuned twenty-one last month, Dio, that's not old by any standard…"

"It is by mine!" She counters, before taking a bite into the piece of meat our mother puts in front of her. I simply continue.

"It is barely one fourth of my active military career…"

"That you spend sitting here and playing with your friends." She does have a point there…

"Well," I begin, trying to find a fault in that, before remembering the main subject, "I am still not old."

"If he is old, what am I?" mother points out, looking falsely insulted.

"You're my mother! Mothers don't grow old…"

"We just shrink and wrinkle?"

"Exactly!"

I scoff at the outburst but a lifetime in the military has taught me when to keep quiet.

Before the conversation can be carried further, however, I hear Marcus call his men to form up in the city center.

We are leaving, it seems.

I take a few seconds to put on my armor and helmet, then find my swords and finally take my shield from my mother.

"With it or on it," She reminds me, "And please try not to bring back any… Mementos, this time."

I laugh and nod. "This time I shall bring you flowers, then."

At Plataea, I used my shield to crush a Persian's skull and a large chunk of skin and hair got caught in a tiny crack, on the side.

I tried to get the thing out after the battle, but it was too slippery for me to get a good grip.

By the time I made it back to Sparta, the flesh had almost rotten away and smelled, let's say, quite strongly.

I sling the thing in my back and kiss my mother, ruffling Dionae's hairs some more on the way out.

Outside, in the center of town, Marcus is fighting with his spear, trying to find a soft spot on the ground to dig it in.

I pick up my own spear from against the wall and walk up to my comrade and commander.

He smiles upon seeing me and gives me a solid warrior handshake that almost huts my wrist.

Marcus is the strongest Hoplite I ever met, but also the slowest, which means by the time I had earned seven kills at Plataea, he was still in mid charge.

He quickly compensated, however, and finished the fight with his two swords shattered, his spear destroyed beyond any use and his shield bent inward.

By the day's end, Marcus had scored a hundred and seventy-two confirmed kills.

I barely got pass the hundred, but it is not important. We won.

Aeimnestus, Kratos and Demetrius are the only others I fought with, the rest are fresh warriors who just graduated from the reserve.

They are young and never faced battle, but every Spartan has had to fight for survival ever since we were child, so none are what we could call inexperienced.

I throw my spear on my back and hang my arms to it while watching the _helots_ load our provisions in backpacks. Half the slaves are female and scrawny, crumbling under the huge packs. The _ephors _gave us whatever they could spares and I am not complaining, but these _helots_ will not survive the trip this way.

Now, I do not feel bad for the weaklings, but I cannot fight and cook at the same time.

"Men!" I order my part of the phalanx, take as many bags as you can carry."

No discussion; they grab the provisions and imitate me when I hang four of the bags to my spear. In addition to my armor and weapons, it becomes quite hard to move, but I love challenges.

Marcus does the same thing, taking five bags. Most of his men follow suit, but there is not enough provisions for all of them, so many hurry and fetch maintenance tools, spare javelins, spears and swords, a few even bring spare shields. Two of them grab portable blacksmith equipment that usually requires a horse or mule to move.

Now carrying supplies for three to four times our number, we set off on the path for Athen. Looking at my brothers, I can see the shadows of smiles under their helmets and decide to add some challenge.

"Spartans, the first one to fall from exhaustion will be making camp for the rest of the trip."

There's actually a few eager chuckles at that and Marcus bumps my shoulder.

"You realize none of them will stop until we get to Athen?"

I nod, "If the battle does not make it into history, the way we got to it surely will."

The Enomotarch smiles and re-assure his grip on the spear. The thing is so heavy it dented the neck part of his helmet.

0

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0

**Athen's Outskirts**

**477BC**

**September 30**

**00:55**

I suppress a yawn and massage my painful neck.

Ahead, Marcus and his men are lying in the high grass, ready to rush at the first sign of the strange light.

My men are waiting just behind him with javelins, ready to bring the rear and cover the phalanx's advance.

Then, once we're out of javelins, the plan is to rush in and flank the enemy formation by forming a pair of micro phalanx.

Then we kill anything that's not a Spartan…

Except the slave we use as bait, anyway… She doesn't seem so scared, interestingly, just sitting there next to the fire and knotting blades of grass into tiny baskets that she discards into the fire as soon as they're done.

Maybe she knows having Spartans watching over you means that you WILL see the sun rise again.

Suddenly, she gets up and spin on herself, horrified.

"It's in the grass!" Is all she manages before being dragged away in the night, screaming.

The moon is very bright and I manage to pick out the trail the girl leaves in the grass as she is being dragged away. My javelin whistles angrily on its way.

It hits something and sticks at an agrle of forty-five degrees, a meter above the ground and half of it sticking out of the ground.

Lightning ripple along its handle for a few seconds, then the weapon disappears in the tall grass.

Marcus and his group begin their organized charge, covering themselves behind their shield as they approach the area where my javelin was last seen.

I admit being a little startled when the _helot _rises above the grass, javelin in hand, and uses it to stab something on the ground twice. She then give it a hard kick that causes a loud metallic sound and a lot of pain, from her ensuing curses.

Marcus and order her to come back to my line and bring the javelin before continuing his charge, spears held ready and sandals crushing the grass.

Anything that stands before them stands as much chance as a snail in an avalanche.

The _helot _does not wait for an invitation and is by my side in five seconds, despite the fifty meters between us.

She hand me my javelin and I look at the tip. It was bent by whatever armor the enemy wore, almost pointing backward now…

I straighten the tip with my thumb and hand the weapon back to the woman, who seems intrigued.

"You earned a weapon." I explain. She hesitates. "I'm a Warrior, not an _ephor_, I don't play mind games."

She finally takes the javelin and holds it close. She reminds me of Dionae, her face and all… I can't help but think the only difference between us is that was born to fight and her to serve. We are both slaves to our nations.

Unlike Marcus and the others, I feel no contempt for the _helots_ because of their rank, only because of their weakness and the fact they let us push them around like cattle.

Marcus' voice brings me back to the scene ahead. "Athos, come look at this…"

I move forward with my twelve warriors by my side, holding a perfect line and with out shield intertwined. No quite big enough to be a real phalanx, but close.

We cross the distance quickly and I find Marcus, Kratos and Demetrius kneeling next to something that seems to be no more than a large lump of bronze.

Then, it turns a lone eye to me and flails skeletal arms at me in a vain attempt to… whatever does it think it will do if it somehow reaches me? Shake hands? Tickle?

The thing has a leaf shaped top half a cylindrical abdomen connected to two triangular 'feet' pointing away from each others .

The javelin seems to have crippled it, as it remains still even as Kratos pokes it with his shorts word.

"Can you make it talk?" I look at Marcus, then at the prisoner, before finally asking:

"Can it talk?"

The hoplite shrugs. "Find out."

Great… The others form a circle around me while I dig my spear in the ground to initiate a dialogue. I speak Celtiberian, Latin, Greek and a few dialects from the north. I try them all.

"Who are you? Why do you take peoples away? Do you understand me?"

After thirty minutes without a single reaction, I must face it, that thing either speaks every languages I know or none of them, since it showed no particular signs of understanding to anything I said.

The _helots_ have long since set up camp around us and are preparing it for the night.

"So?" Marcus asks, leaning against my spear.

"It's not talking." I draw my short sword. The Enomotarch nods and I dig it in the thing's eye. Immediately, I feel an atrocious burn along my forearm and quickly pull my blade out, lightings rippling along my arm.

The pain quickly subsides, replaced by a throbbing and slight numbness.

I am about to tell the others what happened when I realize my feet are no longer on the ground and I am floating. I look up and am blinded by an intense blue light.

"Spartans!" I hear Marc call, "Ready yourselves for battle!"

I kick around to face our leader and he tosses me my spear, already holding his ready.

All around us, Spartans are holding their shield and spears in readiness for the contact with whatever has assaulted us. There are also pieces of the camp being brought along, floating freely around us.

I snatch the spear from the air and place myself in combat position, braced for impact same as when I charged the Persians.

Whatever the enemy is, it will bleed before the last Lacedaemonian has fallen.


	2. Not How Much: Where?

**A/N :Cressida Isolde : Thanks ^^ and no, I meant don't, he means he's a warrior, not a politician, if he wats to kill someone he doesn't play around, he stab them and hide the corpse.**

**Crimson Katana: Spartans never die, they just go to Hades and reform the Phalanx xD**

_Asked why it was dishonorable to return without a shield and not without a helmet, the Spartan king, Demaratos is said to have replied: _

_"Because the latter they put on for their own protection, but the shield for the common good of all." (Plutarch, Mor.220)_

**Mothership Zeta**

**Earth's Orbit**

**2281**

**June 29**

Gail and Sally watched the thirty-six cryo pods aligned on the wall. In every single one of them stood ancient Greek warriors, hoplites, with chest and leg armor along with some very wicked looking swords. Each of them were so muscular, they looked like baby super mutants. They had been frozen with their arms held up as if to protect themselves of something coming from above.

"You sure we should wake them, Sally?" Gail asked, watching the eyes of the one in front of her. He looked mean, dangerous, something about those pale green eyes told her 'Stone cold killer, get the fuck away.' Yet there was definitely.

"Yes! The aliens are so scared of them they won't even look when they pass trough. That's good, isn't it?"

Gail tried to remember what she had learned about Greek hoplites, they were not Mongols alright and mostly civilized, although she would be having trouble explaining the situation to them, what with their language being extinct.

Tercorien was already watching the readings on the opposite walls.

"No chemical alteration, at all, these guys were left untouched for three thousand years! Looks like they were indeed scared of them." The medic laughed, turning to the Lone wanderer. "I can only wake one or two before the aliens lock me out, any preference?"

She surveyed every warrior, looking for any sign that one would be more open to discussion, then went back to the green eyed one.

His helmet was pulled a bit and it seemed like he had shaved his head a few weeks prior and had the most hygiene in the whole group, not that they were particularly dirty, in their shiny armor and red capes, but still…

She also liked the fact his face was not stuck in a ferocious scowl, but was instead tense with thought and anticipation. He sure looked less intimidating than the others for these reasons, so she picked him. Why the heck not?

Eliott pressed a few buttons, causing steam to rise around the warrior, filling the pod.

Why the heck not became very apparent when the man, barely thawed from a three thousand years slumber, ripped his way trough the glass of his stasis pod and tackled Gail to the ground in a second.

Next thing she knew, there was an arm around her neck ready to break it with a simple nudge and a knee was crushing her ribs. All she could do was flail the arm not pinned to the floor by the man's other hand.

"Τι είσαι;?" The man barked in her ear, ignoring Tercorien's rifle aimed at him.

"What?" The wanderer choked. She could fear her vertebras stretching under the man's iron grip.

"Πού βρισκόμαστε;?" He snarled, twisting her neck in a painful way.

"We are friends! She explained, growing more and more terrified. She had survived all the wasteland had thrown at her to be killed by a warrior that should have died before her culture even existed? Fate really was a bitch.

"Ανεξάρτητα, θα σκοτώσει απλά…" The dark note in his tone made her panic and she tried in every language she knew as the man increased the pressure to twist her neck.

"Friend! Ami, Amigo, Amicus…" The Greek froze and released his grip a little.

"Amicus? Ego haud amicitia, mulier, tantum frater. Iam sermo pro ego iuguolo." His tone was lighter, and Gail mentally thanked her father a thousand times for those useless Latin lessons. She remembered them well, since most medicine names were in Latin and she fancied herself a doctor.

Now, she tried to make sense with what he had told, seeing as his forearm was still around her neck and his knee dug in her stomach.

She figured the man was not fluent in latin either, so he would forgive her terrible accent.

"_My friends and I found you there, wanted to help."_

His eyes scrutinized her under his helmet and their cold glare made her shiver. Finally, the hoplite left her go, getting up and bringing her on her feet like she weighted nothing.

Next, he spoke in a soft voice nothing like the one he had a second earlier.

"_I apologize hurting you. I in your debt, but rescue my brothers…" _He turned to the pods with a thoughtful expression. The man had grasped the basics of the situation surprisingly fast, he turned back to Gail and fixed her with a determined look, "_How we free them?"_

The wanderer had to admit, she only understood a word out of three, but the general meaning was clear. Tercorien announced he could not revive anyone else as he had been locked out of the system and Sally decided to run off in another room. At this point, Gail was too busy massaging her neck to care.

She had fought Deathclaws who had not gotten so close to killing her, so who could that guy be? Ancient Greek special forces?

The hoplite was doing an inventory of his gear, apparently missing something; he started looking around the room for it, but hung his head in what seemed to be shame when he could not see it.

"_Sorry," _Gail began, tentatively, jumping when the plumed helmet snapped toward her. _"Can ask who you are?"_

"_Can you?"_

The answer surprised her and she spun it around in her head for a moment, trying to find its exact meaning.

"_Who are you?"_

"_Athos, son of Aegle."_ That was a start, at least he had a name. Then next words, however, almost got Gail jumping in excitement, _"Spartan Warrior."_

Her father had told her how three hundred Spartans had held back thousands, maybe millions of Persians at Thermopylae, and there were thirty of these guys in front of her just waiting for someone to wake them up.

He discussed with her about the situation and she had to resume it to _"We fighting the monster took us. Need your help."_ The hoplite was more than glad to agree.

Athos suddenly asked something about a shield, sounding… Distressed.

"Tercorien, you seen any shields around?"

The medic was still pointing his gun at the Spartan, his mind going over everything he knew about them. He lowered the thing and tried to think.

One point five second. That number kept coming back to his brain, for some reason; it was the time it would have taken this man to kill Gail, the toughest bitch Eliott had ever seen.

"No…" He answered, almost afraid of retribution from the gold armored warrior.

However, before Gail could translate, a loud gong-like sound erupted from the next room and every weapons were draw in a blink, Gail holding her SMG tightly while Tercorien took cover behind a pod.

The Spartan drew what must have been either the biggest knife or smallest sword the others had ever seen. It almost made Gail laugh. Almost.

"_Short." _She commented with a smile. To her surprise, the hoplite returned the smile.

"_Not when you add step forward to it."_

With that, he walked trough the door, blade at the ready.

0

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0

I enter the new metal cave with my short sword prepared for killing, but there is only the little girl from earlier, she dropped some sort of cauldron to the floor. I look around at the pottery and other item before noticing something beyond what I thought to be strange water cascades; all of the phalanx's equipment is here, held behind those strange glowing walls. There are eight such walls around me, in a circle, one holds spears, the other has javelins and one has shields.

"Woman!" I call, trying not to frighten the jumpy one.

My latin must not be very good, since she seems to understands only half of what I say and I fare no better.

"Call me woman again and I… Throw you?" I look at her. She is strong, a warrior for sure and I am barely taller than she is, but I can hardly picture her throwing me.

She lift the strange device in her hand and I look her right in the eyes, understanding a threat –even empty- when I hear one.

She is afraid of me and doesn't like it, that woman scares peoples, not the other way around, so she attempts to make me fear her and regain some form of control. After my earlier display of Pancratium, I cannot say that I blame her.

"Very well, then, what shall I call you?" She smiles at her small victory.

"Gail."

"Gail, could you tell me how to go past the glowing walls?"

She looks around and realizes what is in the rooms beyond.

Gail calls her friend, Helios or something similar and converse with him while I run my fingers along the wall keeping me away from my family's shield. It feels soft, like the surface of water, yet hard as the bronze of my blade.

While they debate on whatever it is that requires debating, I observe the system.

Why put a translucent wall and no other obvious entry? To taunt me? Or maybe the wall is the door, like the gates of Athen only much more advanced…

An opening system! Surely not pulleys and cranks, but there is one on every door, if not on it, very close by.

There is something standing out from the cave wall; solid light of sort, glyphs, I cannot make any sense of it, but I brought a translator with me.

My dagger finds its sheath and I draw my curved sword.

One underhanded swing latter, the wall flickers out of existence and I am browsing trough the pile of shields, looking for mine.

They all look the same, but all have their differences. Mine has a thicker leather cushion that makes it look a bit rounder and was well used, while most shields I come across are brand new, except those that were passed down from father to son, but then, these are even worst than mine and then again easily recognized

There! The crescent of scratches from an impact with a Persian's bare skull, the rounder shape and darker wood; it's my shield.

I hurriedly strap it to my forearm swing it around and stretch my back, relishing the familiar weight.

The other three are starring at me in confusion, but I walk past them without a glance, repeating the same procedure as last time on the room with the spears. Once all my weapons have been recovered, I turn to the three strangers, swords sheathed and spear in hand.

"Who do I have to kill to free my brothers?" It is obvious to me that either she is unable or unwilling to free the other Spartans until I help them defeat the monsters, so there is no use discussing over the matter.

Gail proceeds to tell me that the enemy outnumbers us, but I stop her.

"Just tell me where."


	3. Hardened Hoplite

**A/N: So, as jdboss pointed out, bronze is not bulletproof (Took quite some time to find relevant data and it ended with the destruction on an old plate at the hand of a .308 rifle ^^) and could be melted by any kind of energy weapons. Will be adressed later, no sweat :)**

_When Leonidas was in charge of guarding the narrow mountain pass at Thermopylae with just 300 Spartans in order to delay the invading Persian army, Xerxes offered to spare his men if they gave up their arms. Leonidas replied "Molon labe" (Greek: Μολών λαβέ), which translates to "Come and take them"._

**Mothership Zeta**

**Earth's Orbit**

**2281**

**June 29**

A lone hoplite, outside his phalanx, must make use of very different tactics to win and be sure to correctly guard his rear and flanks. He must also be perfectly aware of all enemy's position at all moment and use every weapon at his disposal.

I'm not really alone; I have Helios and Gail behind me aiming their weapons ahead. The way they act makes me think the complicated devices are some sort of ranged weapons ready to go off at a moment's notice.

A coward's weapon, but then, such things seemed to become quite popular recently and I can see the advantages of using them, I simply do not see the honor in it, what glory is there in murdering a man who did not know you were there, or to use a weapon that requires no more strength than a child's?

Fog wraps around my feet, and a chill runs up my spine. This cave is very cold.

I cannot help but marvel at the work it must have taken to create such a place; the round walls are perfect in every aspect, their soft surface only interrupted by circular cavities. Doors, maybe?

Ahead, ten meters into the tunnel, one such cavity slides out of the way to reveal six small…

What in Hades are these? Childs? Is this a joke? They are barely taller than children and look wrinkled, as if they were a hundred years.

One of the creatures points a shiny device at me and I get myself into position, knees flexed and shield raised.

An Athenian would scream a war cry or something, but we Spartan do not need psychological warfare. Everyone that stands before us knows we _can_ and _will_ kill them.

Two lightning splash on my shield like water, sending waves of heat in my arm, but nothing more.

Time to crush.

I advance with spear held straight and shield holding firm, slowly closing the gap between my victims and I.

_*Bang!* *Bang!* _

Their weapons hammer the bronze and by the time I get within range, the shield is radiating heat like a campfire.

Ahead, the creatures have no coordination whatsoever, they are just standing in a cluster near the newly formed gate in the wall. Easy preys.

I leap forward, using my shield as a ram and knock two of them on the floor before severing their heads with the edge of the shield.

Their silver clothes was burned away by the overheated bronze of my shield.

The hallway is not wide enough to maneuver my spear, so I drop it and unsheathe my curved sword.

Hearing excited talk amongst the four survivors behind me, I bring my shielded arm behind my back.

_*Bang!*_

Before they can fire again, I spin and lash out with the sword.

An arm comes off, soon followed by a head.

I turn to the two remaining foes, smacking the headless corpse and the amputee out of the way with my hoplon.

They aim their weapons and I, instead of covering myself, _punch_ them both with the edge of the shield.

Movement behind me, coming from the gateway, makes me spin and snap in battle position.

More creatures, two armed with glowing sticks and rushing me, one equipped with a long silver stick and staying back and four armed with the same devices as the first I met, earlier.

These things are unlike anything I have ever seen or heard of. A new race? Maybe demons escaped from Hares…

"I will relish sharing my culture with you." I call, laughing at my own joke before charging them.

After all, Sparta's culture revolves around war.

0

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0

Eliot lowered his assault rifle and blinked, turning to Gail, then back to the slaughter ahead.

"How long has it been?" He finally asked, blinking as if trying to wake up.

"Two, three seconds…" Gail surmised, a smile playing on her lips. Fawkes would not have done better with his Gatling Laser.

"_Make much mess." _She called after the lone warrior, standing amongst the dismembered corpses.

"_Redecorating." _Was his only answer.

She threw his spear back and he caught it, manning the wooden shaft like it weighted nothing.

"_I like. Don't let me stop you."_

They resumed moving forward, the Greek seeming almost eager to slaughter some more aliens despite a pretty bad burn in his midsection that deformed the muscles carved into his cuirass.

"He seems nice enough," Sally chirped, "Can I talk to him?"

"No!" Both Tercorien and Gail answered simultaneously.

The little girl pouted, "Why? Is he mean?"

Gail actually wondered about that. The man showed no sign of pity or remorse at maiming and killing his enemies, but was not being aggressive toward her or the others, a professional killer for sure.

"No, but I doubt he'd want to be bothered while he's working."

Ahead, the Spartan grabbed an alien by its face and pulverized its skull against a bulkhead before kicking another one in the nuts so hard it bounced off his feet and splattered against the ceiling.

"He still seems nice to you?" Eliot laughed, nervously.

"He's like Grognak!" The little girl squealed, causing both adults to facepalm in desperation.

Athos turned to see what was going on and Gail laughed at the man's comical expression.

0

0

0

**Mothership Zeta**

**Engine Core**

**2277**

**June 29**

Somah looked at the huge guy with a shield, then back at to the lone wanderer.

"Shit, girl," She laughed, "Where did you find a tank in here?"

The Greek turned his helmet to her and tilted his head on the side.

Somah had seen scarier things in her life than a big dude in golden armor, but for just a normal human, this one was the most intimidating she'd seen, right after the Brotherhood, anyway.

But then, the only scary thing about the BoS was their armor and tech, if you took it away from them, they were just dumbass wasters waiting to be eaten by something hungry.

Maybe if the hoplite wore a power armor, he would be even creepier…

Wait… Why the fuck not?

She analyzed the bronze shield, armor and weapons, her engineering knowledge screaming chemical compositions and fusion points at her.

Bronze was a very soft metal, sure it was easy to repair, but it would not protect him against much, as evidenced by the scorch mark in his cuirass. The Spartan had fared well so far, but he could fare a lot better with a few upgrades.

For example, Somah could use that alien workbench back there to infuse some of the extraterrestrial super alloy into the things. Given its malleability, bronze would most probably be very easy to harden in a manner similar to the process used to manufacture hardened power armors while retaining almost the same weight as before.

"Hey, Gail, tell your friend that, if he wants, I can easily and quickly upgrade anything he has that's metal." She suddenly announced, feeling like a kid about to unwrap its Christmas present.

Gail glanced at the man, uncertain, but did the translation nonetheless.

Athos glared at Somah for a few seconds, sizing her up, evaluating her skills and honesty.

The Spartan removed his helmet, revealing a face much younger than expected, and handed it to the woman, he then removed his armor, taking the cape off to only give her the cuirass, quickly following with his greaves and metal skirt.

Now only wearing the ancient Greece equivalent of T-shirt and boxers, he handed over his swords, the tip of two javelins, both of his spear's tips and, somewhat reluctantly, his shield.

Somah had to drop most of the stuff to the ground, given its weight and Athos smiled at that.

Behind him, Toshiro Kago was watching with interest. Somah had attempted to communicate with the Samurai and make the same offer, but he had just given her a weird look and started blabbering in his language, so she'd said fuck it.

The Japanese man knew a warrior when he saw one and this man was definitely the fighter type, not a samurai, he was too big and had no qualms about parting with his weapons, more like a barbarian, focusing on strength rather than technique, victory, rather than honor, although his armor was perfectly kept, which suggested a dedication close to Kago's own.

He felt respect for the man, respect that was slightly diluted by the disdain he felt at the sight of a shield. A coward's item. Was everyone in this place a gutless dog?

Athos, however, did not feel the same way about Kago, having noticed the samurai, he immediately knew he was looking at a warrior of the same caliber as he was.

The long sword, the high quality armor and the stance of Toshiro spoke of countless victories and a training so hard, surviving it alone was a source of pride. It would be an honor to face than man in battle one day…

Somah dragged the hoplite from his unconscious staring contest with the Samurai by shoving his Machaira –the curved sword- into his hand. It was still warm from whatever she had done to it and it felt different, harder and softer.

He ran his fingers on the blade, testing it and finally nodded. Whatever she had done to his weapon, it was much sharper and tougher than before.

"Well, then, let's get our tank bulletproof!" Somah called with satisfaction and pride.

She would not charge this guy for the simple reason she intended to use him as a walking meat shield of kind and she wanted her meat shield to be built tough.

And she figured he was not the type who carried caps around.

0

0

0

This room is cold and I must say, I feel very naked.

It has a strange design for a cave, a circle centered around a glowing pillar with bridges of metal forming the second floor…

I always saw myself as an intellectual, but now, I feel like I am just a child marveling at the new things around him and asking a thousand questions.

I do not ask any, but they still fill my mind with doubt.

I do not mind much of this situation, war never really changes, no matter who or what you fight, and I am now receiving weapons that will give me more of an edge against my enemies. It is a simple battle, only three thousand years in the future, in a metal cave and without my brothers at my side.

I slip on my new cuirass and give it a test punch. It feels like hitting solid rock…

Whatever the black skinned woman's reasons are, I am grateful; now at least I do not have to fear my equipment will melt in battle.

I think so, anyway… I suppose we will find out soon enough.

The blue armored warrior turns and leave, bored, apparently, and I try to recall if I have ever seen someone dressed and arm like this.

Persians Immortals looked a bit like that, I suppose, but beyond that, I have never seen anything that relates.

Nothing new there, really, Helios is also wearing an armor unlike anything I know.

My helmet finds its place on my head, muffling the sounds and narrowing my vision, but it is a small price to pay for the knowledge that nobody will slit my throat in a moment of carelessness.

Somah hands me my short sword next and I decide to try it on a steel table nearby.

With a few efforts, the serrated blade bites right trough, to the dismay of Helios and Gail. Mine too, but I am better at hiding it.

If I could bring such weapon back to Sparta…

The truth hits me like a charging phalanx. I am not going back to Sparta, it was destroyed three thousand years ago. I watch Gail's eyes as she spoke and it is the truth, I simply ignored it until now. All that is left of Sparta is me, Marcus and the others.

Dionae, my mother, Sparta. All gone. All I ever knew, all I ever fought to preserve has perished!

No. Sparta is not destroyed, it will not be for as long as a Lacedaemonian is still standing and there is thirty-six of us waiting to awaken.

I grab my shield from Somah and strap it to my arm solidly. It is a bit heavier, but not by much. Does not matter, it will just provide me with more crushing power. Once the whole phalanx will be outfitted with such weapons, we will be capable of crushing all enemy that stands before us.

We will rebuild Sparta. After I wipe those devils off the surface of earth, that is, so less talking, more killing.

I look at Gail.

"Where?"

She is putting on a silver piece of clothing, a wide smile on her lips.

"Wait here, will open door."

I nod and begin re-assembling my spear and javelins. The wood was not hardened like the tips, but it does not matter, I will just need to be careful.

Gail walks in a room to my right, a room filled with fog and bathed in pale light, and put on a round -quite ugly- helmet before disappearing trough another round door.

I like Gail, this girl is a leader, very cunning and a born warrior; she would have been a great Spartan queen.

Speaking of which, I wonder if this situation makes me and Marcus kings of Sparta. It will be the men's decision, I suppose, but Marcus is such a popular and skilled leader he is bound to be elected, as for me, I am not so convinced… Not that I wish to become king; I am a warrior, I relish combat and politic makes me sick. No, Aeimnestus is more likely to be elected, seeing as he is the one who ended the battle of Plataea… With a rock.

We are still taunting him about his rock throwing skills, from time to time.

A sinking feeling creeps in my guts; I miss my brothers.


	4. Queen Bitch of the Wastes

**A/N:So, the Neo-Bronze that makes up Athos' equipment retains the properties of regular bronze, only with a higher melting point, density and tension resistance, this means it's bullet proof and won't shatter, but also that the wearer is absorbing all of the shock and high powered bullets can break limbs and shatter ribs. Even with lower calibers, a direct hit will cause some serious bruising. **

**As for slicing and penetration power, well, anything short of Power Armor should be very afraid...**

**Geraldford: Is that soon enough for you ;) And Spartans consider most ranged weapons beneath them, though I admit a Greek hoplite with a sniper rifle slung in his back has some appeal... And they are all very intelligent and educated, give them time and they'll learn anything.**

**crimson katana: Yeah, I'm thinking about that right now, I think they'd either see it as a way for weak beings to compensate their lack of strength without making the effort of working out, or as an excellent way to increase the crushing power of the phalanx, because the formation is not about defense, it's about crushing the dude in front of you :)**

_If you're in a fair fight, you didn't plan it properly._

_- Nick Lappos, Chief R&D Pilot, Sikorsky Aircraft._

I look at Helios, sitting across from me. He speaks latin a lot better than Gail, but did not realize it was the language we were speaking until I attempted to make him understand I was hungry.

It resulted in much useless talking from him and much hungry gurgling from my stomach.

Now, I'm eating some sort of fish they somehow sealed in a metal box the size of my hand and answering the doctor's many questions about Sparta. Since our culture has been extinct for centuries and all the information they have about us now is fragmented at best, his sources are... Ill informed, at best.

"Do you kill your unfit babies?" Unfit… Can a newborn be fit?

"Only if they are so deformed they may not serve the society."

"So how many in a hundred would be killed?" How should I know? I am not a scholar!

"One, maybe two." It's true, I do not remember seeing that much babies not coming back to their mothers.

"Historians made it sound like only half of you survived the test…"

"Only half of us survived training," I explain, "But parents can choose to leave if their child is too weak."

The man seems shocked by my culture. You do not forge a blade by stroking it neither do you breed a warrior by cajoling him… Or her.

Gail's status as a warrior is something I like about this new world; equality, women are just as apt to fight as men and should be allowed to if they do not desire bearing children. In Sparta, they are not allowed to fight because otherwise our population would dwindle, which is logic, since they are much more important as males in the conception of child, but their size and relative lack of aggression could allow them to fulfill a lot of roles most men would see as dishonorable.

"Are you married?"

Huh? What kind of question is that?

"No."

"Is it seen as odd, given your age?"

"No."

If he calls me old too, I am punching him.

"How are man on man relationships seen in your culture?" He seems uncomfortable with this one, expecting me to loose my temper.

"Odd."

"Are they… Punished?"

"We do not care what our warriors do in their intimacy, so long as they keep it quiet and do not let it affect their abilities." I think it's true… Fact is, I never saw a homosexual couple, although I know there must be a few.

Somah has a few questions as well, about our slaves, and I explain that we treat them well enough, compared to other states, and, if they are strong enough, even give them a chance of earning their freedom in battle, but most are weak, so they stay slaves.

She seems to like that idea and Helios is obviously disgusted by that principle.

"No matter what you have been taught," I explain, "Freedom always has a price."

Then, a man named Paulson, dressed in dirty clothes with the colors faded, asks why we are extinct, if we were so strong.

I wish I knew the answer to that. Instead, I reply "Do I look extinct?"

Paulson was not trained as a fighter, I see it by his stance, suspicious and tense; he is a survivor, the complete opposite of the blue armored man, who seemed to focus solely on combat, he looks like the battles he fought were for his own survival, instead of loyalty to a king or country.

I respect that, although he do not bear the same kind of burden as Gail, he does have the looks of a man who lost a part of his soul…

"Helios." I call the healer, who was still discussing with Somah, "Has Paulson losta member of his family?"

The white armored man asks the other one who angrily dismisses the matter. Before Helios can translate, however, I ask him another question.

The man raises an eyebrow before teaching me the words I am looking for.

0

0

0

Paulson rolled the barrel of his revolver before snapping it back in place. The aliens were soft and his bullets were hard, as he had seen in the hanger bay. He rolled the barrel out again and spun it.

Knowing this, the cowboy figured a very simple plan; 'I got a full belt of ammo and empty bottle of revenge, by the time I eat the dirt, this will have changed…' He imagined the face of every one of these buggers before he'd blast their brains on the wall.

A wall of pure muscle stepped in front of him, interrupting his daydreaming. The Spartan, still bearing that poker face; that would bring him lots of money at the right table…

"You lookin' for trouble?" Paulson growled, snapping his barrel back into the gun.

The hoplite seemed to focus and spoke, in an accent so thick the cowboy barely understood:

"We will kill them all."

Paulson actually smiled at that.

"Glad we understand one another."

Somah and Eliot exchanged a glance at the sight; two stone cold killers, separated by enormous gaps of time and space, from extremely different cultures, brought together by a common desire to fucking commit genocide on the alien race that pissed them off.

"I almost feel sorry for them…" Tercorien admitted, "Hey, you think you could harden my armor the same way you did for his?"

She contemplated this for a second and shook her head, "Too many layers of different alloys, it would harden some and screw up others, not worth all the trouble…"

He nodded and sat down on a crate of ammo. "So, you think slavery's a good thing?"

"Depends if I'm slave or slaver." And she walked away.

0

0

0

A high pinched sound attracts my attention to some sort of closet.

Somah is already in there, weapon in hands.

On the floor, a red circle of light is illuminating her face in a pretty sinister way and I almost draw my sword in surprise.

She says something probably sarcastic and steps on the circle, vanishing into the light.

"Behind me, I hear Helios say something along the lines of "One small step for a Spartan…"

Crazy man…

I step in the light and feel a slight tickling crawl on my skin. The world spins and changes from polished silver walls to… more polished silver walls…

I am in the corner of a large room with two doors, one is closed, the other leads to more white doorways.

On this side, demons are firing at the two women, having already wounded Gail in the leg.

There is also a pair of metal creatures like we saw in the fields, except they are flying a meter above ground…

The demons are forming a line, four meters ahead of me and the metal things are hovering behind them, firing large bubbles of lighting.

One of those arcs in my direction and bounces off my shield; I just need to nudge it to send the thing back into the enemy ranks where it explodes, causing much confusion.

I step forward, shield soaking up a veritable flood of blue blobs -without heating even the slightest bit.

I should take care of the metal ones first, they pose the biggest threat…

I sprint forward and leap over the line of gray skins, two bolts hitting my chest and causing a mild burning where they hit.

Not enough to stop a Spartan.

My spear hisses trough the air and plunges into one of the machines' red eye. It whines angrily and clatters to the floor just as I land too, kneeling under the weight of my weapons.

Before the closest creatures can attack, I spin and leash out with my shield held horizontally.

Bones break, skulls shatter and blood splatters.

This give both women time to use their own weapons.

These things are loud, even trough my helmet! I must actually fight not to cover my ears…

But a look at the enemy lines tells me they are effective as well, grinding meat like gravel thrown by Hercules himself. The foes ahead fall, except the metal one, who fires at the women once more.

Out of spear reach and it would be foolish to repeat the same attack twice…

I drop the spear on my foot, grab a javelin and throw it right in the flying creature's eye. It buzzes like an angry bee and dies without any other form of

Remembering there are some demons behind me, I kick my weapon off my foot, snatch it from the air and whirl around. The wooden shaft clubs the four small creatures so hard two of them die right away the others only cease to live upon impacting the nearest wall.

I survey the round room, but all enemies have been killed and the others are appearing in the red light.

I face Gail. "Where?"

She asks the little girl, who points to the opened door, so I get in combat stance behind my shield ordering the others to stay behind me while I advance, picking up my javelin on the way.

This tunnel is narrow and offers very little maneuvering space, but this only means I can crush anything that stands before me. We soon walk into a room with another circle on the floor, but this one is not lit up.

Gail tells me to wait and I halt. There is another entrance to this small chamber we are in, this one closed, and it is the only place the enemy can come from, so I keep my eyes on it, ready to impale anything that gets trough.

0

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0

Gail could not fucking believe it.

"Come on guys! Seriously, do I have to do _everything_?"

Somah did not even look apologetic, "Sorry kid, no sense in all of s falling into a trap…"

She almost wanted to take Sally and Athos and get to the bridge while leaving the rest to rot in front of that teleporter, but she needed them…

"Alright, but the tank is coming with me."

Somah tried to argue, but they were both gone.

"_You are upset." _The Greek remarked, glancing at the lone wanderer from the corner of his eye. Not easy with an helmet that surrounds all of your head.

"_They cowards." _She hissed, tightening her grip on the SMG.

"_I know, if there no cowards, there no heroes, not be mad, be proud."_

She got the overall meaning; heroism was not common, otherwise it would not be heroism. You could not expect from someone to always act like he was exceptional when he wasn't, you had to accept the fact heroism was a rare thing and be proud of yourself..

"You know how to talk to a girl, Athos." She scoffed, in english.

The Spartan ignored the remark. Had she wanted him to understand it, she would have spoken Latin.

They made it to a room with three glowing bubbles blocking their way, aliens on the other side waiting for them.

"_Ready?"_ Gail asked her personal tank, earning a smile.

"_Even when I sleep."_

He dropped his spear the same way as earlier, resting it on his foot for quick retrieval, and prepared a javelin while Gail took cover behind him.

They could not see much of what was going on the other side of the shield, but both could see a large, yellowish creature suddenly appear trough some door in the middle of the room, get in, slaughter the aliens and get out, screaming in a surreal voice.

Gail almost shat her pants and Athos paled, but never even flinched.

The barrier fell and the Spartan got moving, steadily, each step perfectly calculated.

He stepped on a dead alien and crushed its chest under his massive weight.

The two got trough the room, weapons help ready, and finally reached the door the creature had disappeared trough.

Beyond that door were steps and at the top of those steps, a somewhat human-looking thing stood, nearly three meters tall and deformed to the point it looked like a cross between the aliens and a human.

Before Gail could comment how wrong this thing was, however, it pointed at them, rearing its large head to unleash an animalistic scream. The sound drilled trough the young woman's ears and brought chills up her spine.

Athos stood his ground even as the abomination charged him. His shield would hold and he would not break the line. This was Spartan law, this was what he was bred to do.

This was a terrible idea.

The thing was so strong, the impact alone sent the hoplite on his ass and his spear clattered to the floor, out of reach, although he was back on his feet and unsheathed his sword in an instant… The monster lashed and Athos blocked, feeling his arm growing numb from the impact.

He slashed at the thing and stopped the next strike dead in its track by severing a few fingers.

This only angered it and the Greek soon found himself shoved to his knees by the massive impacts on the shield, each resonating like a gong.

Finally, something in his arm cracked and pain blinded him for an instant, but he still blocked the next assault, causing a sharp bone to pierce his wrist. Despite his effort, the shield fell to the Spartan's side and he looked up at his attacker, already ready to hit again.

That was it, the next strike would surely kill him… Ahtos raised his sword in defense nonetheless.

That next strike did not come, instead, Athos heard the metallic sound of Gail's weapon and screams of pain from the creature.

Resolved not to have his kill stolen by a coward's weapon, the Spartan leapt forward and swung with his curved blade.

He was seeing double, but it didn't matter; Athos intended to kill both of them.

A second later, it fell to the floor, its legs severed just above the knees, and he beheaded it in one swing.

He laughed, ignoring the pain.

"Κάθε άτομα είναι ίσα, όταν τεμαχίζετε από τα πόδια τους." All men are equal, when you cut off their legs.

Gail stared at the man as he chuckled to his own joke.

The sight of his open fracture had already drained all blood from her face and her brain slowly started processing information again.

First she lowered her still smoking gun, and then gave the hoplite a shot of adapted bio-gel to fix the wound.

"Will you be alright?" She inquired as the hoplite got back to his feet and recovered his spear.

Even tough he could not understand the words, the meaning was clear.

"_Flesh wound." _ He said with a devious grin before getting back on the move.

And here she thought the wasteland had created some of the hardest men in history. This guy overshadowed even Charon.

A small voice in her mind told her she'd be the queen bitch of the fucking wasteland with thirty-six of those guys at her side and, from that moment, she resolved to become best friend with every single one of them.


	5. Walk The Ashes

_"When Paedaretus was not chosen to be one of the Three Hundred, an honor which ranked highest in the State, he departed cheerful and smiling, with the remark that he was glad if the State possessed three hundred citizens who were better than himself."_

**Mothership Zeta**

**Bridge**

**2231**

**June 29**

The room ahead is completely filled with demons; six are sitting around to the right side of the room, seven to the left and one in the middle, sitting on some sort of throne.

I step out of the way just in time to avoid the hail of blue blobs flying at me and raise my shield to cover the doorstep, preventing the others from being butchered.

They all set up around the doorstep, staying out of the way.

Gail removes a small handle from her weapon and shoves a new one in the resulting hole. Then she nod and I step in the crowded room, leaving my spear behind.

She goes right, I go left.

I need to go around a row of glowing devices, standing at knee height, but instead decide to jump over them, landing amongst my enemies. Four to my shielded left, three to my armed right.

My kopis whips up and split one of them in two. The other ones fire at me; two blobs impact my cuirass, one grazes my arm, causing a feeling akin to dipping one's hands in burning water. Before they can fire again, however, I kick one of them into the other and they both crash to the floor.

Taking advantage of the short respite, I advance the other way and ram my attackers with my shield. One falls to the ground and I stomp its skull, the others try to run away and end up splattered on the wall.

The two I knocked down are getting up, but a single javelin solves this.

A look around me confirms I fulfilled my purpose here.

Gail is finishing her own fight. The last enemy is attempting to crawl away, but she pins it on the floor with her feet and shoots the back of its skull.

"Is everything where it belongs?" I inquire, sheathing my sword and retrieving my javelin.

She does a quick inspection and nod.

"Now, can we free my brothers?" I groan, very much convinced I killed every non-human being in this place.

She is not listening to me, instead staring ahead in an awed expression.

By Zeus, that woman… Oh…The wall ahead seems translucent, like very clear water, and beyond it is a very large sphere.

I have seen the maps and I can recognize a lot of the landscapes.

I even see Sparta from here… It was burned to the ground, just like everything around it.

I walk up to Gail and shake her out of her stupor. She blinks a few time as the others fill the room.

Where were they during the fight? Cowards.

Something looms into view, outside and I step back, muttering every prayers I know.

The thing is huge, the size of a hundred Persian ships, at least, colored a dark green and with spikes protruding from it.

A red face appears right in front of me, floating in the air like… I don't know like what, but it cannot be a good sign.

"Zeus help us…"

As if to punish me from mentioning that name, the green9 creature fires a strange ray at us and I duck behind my shield, bracing for impact.

The ground shakes, the lights dim and my ears are filled with unnatural sounds, but there is no impact, nor pain.

I look up to see Gail punch a button, causing a beam of light to strike the enemy, the same kind as they had used on us…

The same… Of course!

We are on a ship. This is a ship to ship battle… High above Earth; these beings are nothing more than dwellers of another world, coming to invade Earth, like Persians coming to invade Greece!

These particular Persians most have come quite a long way to invade us…

Something explodes and Helios is thrown against a wall, his face so burned I can see bones.

The man should be thankful the explosion knocked him uncounscious.

He moans unconsciously and I walk over to him. In normal circumstances, I would end his misery, but this new world has different rules, so I instead stab one of these healing devices in his neck and watch as the cartilage and skin of his face are rebuild before my eyes.

If Leonidas had had this stuff at Thermopylae, he would have slaughtered the whole Persian army.

I hear the characteristic sound the… Foreigners make when talking and turn.

Two of them somehow got behind Gail and she is too busy fighting the other ship to react in time.

I am too far away as well and the attackers are too far apart for me to get them with a single javelin…

But I have a dept to the woman and there is no greater dishonor than to fail your duty.

Helios' weapon is on the floor, at my feet, just waiting for someone to get over his ridiculous reluctance and close-mindedness.

0

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Gail fired another shot at the enemy ship, illuminating its shield, and transferred all power to the shields.

There was a few seconds of silence and she braced herself for the incoming impa…

A sudden rattle of automatic fire caused her heart to skip a beat. The Wanderer spun and aimed her SMG at the source of the sound and her brain took a few seconds to register what it was seeing.

A Spartan hoplite, shield strapped to the left hand, glowing alien Biogel hanging from his belt and assault rifle in the right hand, was holding the smoking assault rifle pointed at the ceiling, the butt resting against his neck, like some action move hero. A very, historically inaccurate action movie…

"Well, fuck me!" Somah called, "Now I've seen everything…"

Sally opened some door in the corner of the room and Toshiro Kago emerged from it, chest and legs surrounded by one of these weird energy fields the alien officers used, and holding a 5mm Minigun.

"Wha…" Before the woman could continue, a new impact shook the ship and more aliens teleported in.

Athos tossed the assault rifle to Paulson, muttered "Kill them." and charged, perfectly silent.

The cowboy took just a second to figure out how to use the weapon and quickly began earning his share of revenge.

Alien infantry were popping all over the deck and he had to club quite a few of them.

Toshiro soon threw his minigun aside to switch for his katana.

Then, there were two spinning whirlwind of death on the bridge; one with a medium sword butchering everything the shield did not crush and another with a long sword, cleaving its victims as neatly as a laser beam.

Then, there was Paulson, hip firing Eliot's R91 into a mass of aliens while he used his Colt to dispatch lone targets.

In the middle of it all, Somah and Gail were fighting the other ship with great success, using Athos' tactic; raise the shield, give it all you got, cover yourself, let them waste their strength, finish them.

Behind her, a pretty sneaky alien was killed by a large knife to the face and another received a sword in the chest.

The bridge was being overrun; they needed to end this fight quickly.

Watching Athos use his shield, Toshiro's opinion quickly changed. This was no coward's weapon, nothing like the shields he had encountered before and its thickness was not meant for protection; It was intended to crush before anything else.

The samurai, cowboy and hoplite soon found themselves fighting aliens together with a passed out U.S. Army medic on the floor.

This made Gail wonder what her father would think if she told him about that situation…

Probably that it was the most historically and culturally wrong battle, ever.

She fired the death ray one last time and the ship ahead exploded in a blooming swirl of debris.

She hopped around in glee, and pounced Paulson, giving the cowboy a crushing hug.

"We did it!" She squealed turning to Athos, "You big motherfucker, come here!"

And she leapt at him too, kissing the front of his helmet.

"_Wake the others."_ He spoke so softly she barely heard it.

Of course, wake the others… The bunch of professional killers with soon to be indestructible armors, big swords and, if Athos was any example, a proclivity for learning and adapting to every combat situation right away… She did not think it was a smart move to wake all these boys, but then, neither was fucking with Athos, so she decided go check on Eliot. If he was dead, so was she.

The Wanderer knelt next to the medic and pressed her fingers to his neck. She felt his pulse immediately and he actually opened his eyes a few seconds after the contact.

"Did I miss anything?" He slurred like a drunk.

"Just the fight."

"Shame. Why's the Spartan guy looking at you like that?"

"He wants us to wake his friends now… Or he's wondering what It'd be like to rape my face to death, either way, could you hurry and thaw them out?" She was not exactly scared of Athos, he looked more like the teddy bear kind, but she'd seen the guy pull some insane shit and really did not enjoy loosing limbs.

"Uh… Sure, we just need to unlock them and go back down to initiate the thawing process, actually… I think so."

0

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Marcus and the others awoke from their slumber in pretty much the same fashion as Athos had, ripping the shit out of their pods and looking for something to kill…

Most relaxed upon seeing everyone was there and safe, but not Marcus; he charged straight at Athos like a raging bull and the latter quickly discarded his shield to greet the huge Spartan with a leg sweep.

The ensuing battle was brutal; Marcus landed a solid uppercut in Athos' chin, punching so hard, the other Spartan almost did a back flip.

Gail, Sally and Eliot hurriedly cowered away as Athos wrestled the much larger man to the floor, throwing lightning fast jabs and bashing the other one's skull on the hard floor.

Marcus threw Athos aside and sat up, spitting blood. He smiled and asked the other hoplite, who was in a low stance, ready to pounce; "Πώς μπορείς να είσαι τόσο γρήγορα;?"

"Ταχύτητα προέρχεται από μια καλή ισορροπία του μυαλού και των μυών, η άσκηση εξίσου." Athos answered, relaxing himself before recovering his shield.

The two men walked away, followed by all thirty others. None some much as casted a glance at the Wanderer and medic.

"This…" Tecorien began, only to be interrupted by Gail's enthusiast outburst.

"Did you see this shit? Fuck! Did you see how they moved? Did… Did you see the size of the other dude's arms? They were four times bigger than yours, at least!"

0

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0

"How can you be so fast?"

"Speed comes from a good balance of mind and muscles, exercise both equally."

I pick up my shield and strap it back in place.

"Come, old friend," I announce, offering him a hand, "I have much to tell you."

He takes my hand and I proceed to explain all that has happened in his absence, leading him to the room where the equipment is waiting, while the others follow, quiet and disciplined as ever.

A level above us, Somah is ready to harden all of our items, having accepted to do it in exchange of some of out spares.

Soon, Spartan warriors will walk this world once more.


	6. Welcome to Earth

**A/N: Crimson Katana: Well, they worship technology, so...**

**Geraldford: Uh... I'll think about it? ^^' Fact is, I want to keep this realistic and, for the moment, I don't see them taking the enclave head on... **

_An old man wandering around the Olympic Games looking for a seat was jeered at by the crowd until he reached the seats of the Spartans, whereupon every Spartan younger than him, and some that were older, stood up and offered him their seat. The crowd applauded and the old man turned to them with a sigh, saying _

_"All Greeks know what is right, but only the Spartans do it."_

**Mothership Zeta**

"**Spartans' quarters"**

**2281**

**May 3**

Marcus is massive and I genuinely feel sorry for this chair he is sitting on. Many peoples suggest he would be the Spartan with the closest resemblance to Hercules, from the strength to the size.

Personally, I prefer to remain standing while I expose the result of my discussions with Gail.

"Alright, Athos," Marcus sighs, "explain your idea to me and this time please try to make sense…"

I smile and point to the extremely accurate drawing of a hoplite warrior I found in a book. "What are our flaws?"

He points to the warrior's thigh, "We are vulnerable here, but this is necessary for mobility."

"What else?"

He observes the drawing, frowning in intense concentration, "I give up… What are we doing wrong?"

"Nothing." I hit my fist on the table, "We are doing everything perfectly like hoplites should, but in this world, _everyone_ uses ranged weapons. Our armor can sustain these, but we will have a hard time closing the distance for the kill…"

He shrugs, "We just do the same as we did at Plataea, charge them and use our shields to protect ourselves…"

"No!" I snap, "Their weapon can kill from a _kilometer_ away! These are no bows! We must adapt, Marc, for adaptation is the key to survival, surely you remember that!"

He observes the other diagrams littering the table. Hel… _Eliot_ was kind enough to translate most of them in latin and I, in turn, translated them to Greek.

SC-202/AM rifle, MkIV power fist, T-51b Power Armor, Kodiak combat boots, Vulture tactical pants, Kevlar shirts, Biogel, epoxy, Spider rocket launcher and .357 Desert Falcon. All of these items can be found in the vessel's cargo holds, all ours for the taking, if we only learn how to use them.

"There is only thirty of us, Athos," He sighs, "What do you want to do? Resurrect Sparta?"

I grin, "There is nothing to resurrect, Marc, what I want is to create a new Sparta. We go in this wasteland, build our city and provide protection; we will not need slaves anymore, not in this world, people will work in exchange for protection. This is what we were made for, Marcus, as Spartans. This is our Elysian Fields!"

He looks at my drawing next. How did it get in there?

Gail. That woman will kill me someday.

I found what she called pencil and decided to practice my drawing skills a bit. She said it looked very good and I should show it to the other Spartan to convince them. I refused, because it is an inaccurate despiction…

The thing is a drawing of four Spartans, wearing a 'Kevlar shirt' –a skintight cloth that covers the chest and shoulders, leaving the forearms bare- and tactical pants under their cuirass, mitra –The 'metal skirts' as Eliot calls them- and greaves.

There are also pieces taken from the power armor, such as the communication device and sound amplification systems , integrated to the helmet in the form of two round protuberances over the ears and a small twig rising from one of them. Beyond that, the armor is unchanged; cape and everything keep their places

The first Spartan and most to the right is pressing his communicator and has a regular shield and spear, held loosely in the left hand.

The second, to the left, also has a shield and spear in hands, but there are plenty of technological healing devices hanging from an harness, worn over his cuirass. Next one has his shield in his back and is kneeling, large rifle in hands. He is looking down the 'Scope', a sight magnification device and is helmet has a darker plume, like all of his clothes.

The last one is carrying a large, tubular device on his back and has his eyes protected by a power armor's visor.

Marcus asks me just what it is and I describe everything in detail, the effect of everything and he stops me at each sentence.

"A device that allows you to communicate with someone you cannot see?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Not the shadow of an idea…" I scoff. And his face, previously gleaming, darkens somewhat.

"How would we maintain equipment we know nothing about?"

I hand him a small vial of blue liquid, "This is what Gail calls _epoxy_; somewhat of a magical, intelligent liquid, it finds what is broken and fixes it without spare parts. The quantity of liquid it requires is proportional to the amount of damage taken."

"What if we run out?" Marc insists and I smile.

"It reproduces."

His face falls. "How?"

"With metal. We drop any sort of metal into the pool where we… cultivate it, and it will turn it into _epoxy_."

The Enomotarch is reciting the whole pantheon, expecting some sort of answer from one of them.

"We need a real leader." He sighs, "Someone who can maintain our identity as Lacedaemonians and still deal with dilemmas like these… We need _ephors_, kings, something!"

"A queen?" I state, flatly.

He frowns and seems about to ask whom, when realization dawns upon him.

"Her? But… She is not even a Spartan!"

"She needs not to be; Well, not if you see her as a special advisor. We follow her directions, but not blindly, she helps us understand the world around and integrate ourselves and we, in return provide her with the services of the deadliest army in history."

He nods slowly, weighting his options, but finally decides we will wait before making such drastic choices.

"What about tactics," He then asks, "What about the phalanx?"

"Excellent question." I congratulate, "I studied the matter; the formation is still effective and should be our main battle technique, only we use projectile weapons on targets beyond throwing range and ameliorate our equipment with modern materials."

Marcus finally agrees and rise off his seat to go explain all of this to his men. Mine already know what I am planning and have very mixed opinions… Some nod, others shrug.

Meanwhile, I must go with Gail and my own troops to explore the area where the… Transport thing landed.

Apparently, it is in the middle of a deserted city, but there are signs of civilization nearby. Diplomacy, reconnaissance or both, I do not know, but I trust my warriors to carry out every of them flawlessly.

I take the teleporter to the bridge and am brought face to face with Kratos.

A simple nod tells me everything is in readiness. Gail is wearing this 'Tesla Power armor' she salvaged earlier, which my men dubbed 'Zeus Armor'. The thing gives her strength and protection almost rivaling my Spartan's… Almost.

She smiles upon seeing me and stretches, causing some hissing from her armor.

"Went well?" She asks in her passable Latin.

"Yes." I reply, in English.

"Men ready?" She add and I smile, turning to the warriors:

"She asks if you are ready."

They throw their shields up and roar "AHOO! AHOO! AHOO!" In perfect coordination.

"Born ready." I remind her with a smile.

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**Washington DC**

**2281**

**May 4**

**22:13**

The thing had landed during the night, coming from the sky like a meteorite, and Reilly's Rangers had been hired by the Brotherhood to retrieve it.

Right about now, they had counted thirty raiders circling the thing, all armed with sledgehammers and other such melee weapons. Some had small caliber pistols, and two packed flamethrowers.

Donovan looked out the window they were stationed at and sighed. "They're not going anywhere, boss."

"I say we make 'em go." Brick offered. Butcher laughed at that.

"It would take a whole Brotherhood squad to root these guys out, they got the high ground and there's no cover leading… To… The fuck?

A bright red light filled the hollowed out hunk of a building the round object had crashed in blinding everyone and startling the raiders.

Every ranger took cover, expecting the thing to go off, and only emerged when they heard one of the Raiders talking.

"Who the fuck are you?"

There was a second of hesitation and a soft but loud voice answered.

"Spartans."

It had a thick accent unlike any they had ever heard. Reilly crawled over to the window, in time to see what seemed like a dozen baby Super mutants, half armored with gold and red, form two lines in front of another, black and red clad soldier. Their commander, obviously. Its eyes were glowing red and it held an SMG, as opposed to the others who all had spears and shields.

Red eyes spoke in a language nobody in the whole wasteland understood and a man, standing in front of some raider barked two orders and that shit got real.

The man moved like a snake, hitting so hard the raider's head did a 180 spin.

Then, with two steps back, he disappeared in the wall of shields. There were two rows of six shields intertwined together, the first row at ground level and the second just over it with three guys watching the back of the phalanx.

The raiders with firearms opened up while those with melee weapons charged the Spartan lines, expecting it to break under their combined weight.

When the first sledge came down, it became obvious the Raiders were fucked; its owner only earned a long, hollow sound followed by a spear to the guts.

Two more, carried forward by their momentum, were impaled on the spears and shoved away. The rest tried to retreat while the shooters covered them from the remains of the second story, but the phalanx advanced in perfect synchronism, like a veritable wall of metal and spikes; and they advanced fast.

The some raiders turned around to see where their enemies were and either got impaled on the large spears, or crushed by shields, their shooters' covering fire powerless against the shields that coverd the formation's front and top.

Behind the phalanx, the three Spartans stabbed their spears in the dirt, discarded their own shields and hung their helmets on the spears.

Then, they all sprinted in different directions, large knives in hand.

The first one leapt on a support column's remains and, from there, onto the second floor where he disappeared into the shadows. A second latter, one of the four raiders strewn around the remains disappeared in a dark corner, screaming in fear.

The second one just use a large piece of debris as a step to propel himself up and right on another raider, who actually had time to fire his .32 pistol at the hoplite's chest, with little effect.

The Spartan dug his blade into the mans' neck, in an angle that made it pierce the heart, and curled into a ball in mid-air, disappearing trough a hole in the wall.

The last warrior used the stairs, and came up behind the two raiders, armed with Chinese pistols.

He wrapped his thick arms around both their necks and broke both with little effort.

Pankration –the Spartan's martial art- discouraged attacking many opponents at the same time, but for an ambidextrous warrior such as Kratos, it was not much a challenge to kill these weaklings simultaneously.

He threw both bodies aside and jumped back down, where his brothers in arm were finishing off the survivors.

Athos walked up to him, and stabbed his 'lizard killer' in the heart of a bloodied raider. The man gurgled in pain and tried to remove the spear's butt spike from his chest.

The Phylearch did not so much as acknowledge the man's pleas.

"Set up camp here," He ordered, "I will be gone for some time, along with Demetrius, Perseus and Varos ."

He handed his spear to the Sub-Phylearch, along with his helmet.

Underneath his cuirass, Athos wore a pair of nylon shorts and a black Kevlar t-shirt, along with tactical boots and, only just noticing that fact, Kratos frowned at this. "Going native, sir?"

"No." Came his superior's definitive answer and the other warrior knew better than to push the issue.

"Where are you going?" He asked, instead.

"To meet the forces in presence and evaluate their strength."

Kratos smiled inwardly. Marcus had never given such orders, or they would still be debating on it. If anyone asked, Kratos would root for Athos as king any moment; that man knew how and when to take actions. Not that Marcus was an inapt leader; he simply was not as cunning and he knew it, which is why the man always took so long to think everything trough. What was certain, however, was that Marcus was a lot more experienced that Athos, so the hoplite would probably elect him king as well, to compensate Athos' ruthlessness.

"By your command." Kratos nodded and began distributing orders.


End file.
